The hiden heart of the Labyrinth
by moonlightdreamer1
Summary: Hope you have fun reading this. Very short. Jareth has a terrible fate, can Sarah save him from it. JS.
1. Part one

Right once again with lots of feeling (not), I don't own any of the Characters of Labyrinth or any of the song lyrics, however I wish I owned Jareth, (but then don't we all girls ;-) mmmm).  
  
  
  
The hidden heart of the Labyrinth  
  
Part one.  
  
He watched her as she walked to school: Sarah Williams, the reason he was so confused. They had parted ways three years ago now, but still she haunted his thoughts and dreams. The effect had taken time to show itself, but once that happened everything around the king was affected.  
  
She went to cross a road, he saw it coming in his crystal, a lorry speeding down the street towards her, and Sarah turned, her face paled. Jareth disappeared from where he sat watching.  
  
Sarah heard the brakes screech and then she felt like she was flying. Strangely, there was no sound: she opened her eyes to find arms tightly round her and white hair tickling her nose. White hair???? It couldn't be, could it? As they landed on the opposite pavement, the driver got out of his lorry and ran over to them.  
  
"Are you alright, Miss? It's a good thing this man jumped in, he saved your life."  
  
Sarah stared up at her rescuer and her eyes went huge: it was Jareth. "I'm fine," she assured the driver, as best she could. In fact, thanks to Jareth, there wasn't even a scratch on her.  
  
After she refused to go to hospital, the driver of the lorry insisted Jareth take Sarah home just in case something was wrong, after all, he said, she couldn't go to school with shock. Jareth, to her surprise, agreed in a quiet voice tinged with concern.  
  
Still holding her, Jareth slowly walked towards her house. When he got there he ran the bell, there came running footsteps and Karen stood there. "Sarah, what the . . .?"  
  
Jareth spoke softly but strongly: "She was almost hit by a lorry, I saved her and brought her home, it is not wise to let her go to school today."  
  
"Thank you. What is your name?" asked Karen as politely as she could manage: not only had Sarah been saved, but by a very handsome stranger. She was a little put out: why did Sarah have all the luck?  
  
"I'm Jareth Geridian Labyrinth."  
  
Karen smiled sweetly. "Those are rather unusual names, do they mean anything?"  
  
Jareth's eyes were boring into Karen with anger, he wanted to get Sarah somewhere that she would be comfortable, not stand here indulging in chitchat. Karen seemed to get the message: she moved aside and Jareth strode into the house. He walked upstairs and asked as he went, "Which room is Sarah's?"  
  
He winked at her, he was trying not to give away he had already been here. Sarah couldn't believe this: he was stopping her from getting in trouble. Karen called up. "The first room on the right."  
  
Jareth called down a thank you, and asked for a damp flannel and two cups of tea. Karen agreed faintly, and went to the kitchen. Maybe he was British?  
  
He gently placed Sarah down on the bed, where she stared up at him, as he pulled her bedcovers up over her. "Thank you Jareth."  
  
Her mind was reeling: he was being so kind to her, considerate of her every need, he was behaving like a true gentleman, like he had been in the ballroom of the crystal. He turned his gaze on her and smiled. The smile was relaxed, not devilish like she had known before. He had changed in the time they had been apart.  
  
Quietly, he turned a chair round so the back was facing her, and then straddled it looking at her with concern. "You're welcome. Are you sure you feel alright?"  
  
"Yes, I'm fine. But why did you come here to save me?" Sarah looked into his eyes unrelentingly.  
  
As she looked at him, a slow blush crept over his cheeks. "I."  
  
There came a knock on the door, they both jumped and turned towards the intrusive sound. Sarah spoke a little distantly. "Come in."  
  
Karen walked in: she had even made sandwiches for the guest. She looked over at Sarah and tried to behave like a sympathetic parent. "I can phone work and take the day off if you want." Unfortunately she failed miserably. Her voice was palpably reluctant.  
  
Jareth looked at her. "I'll take care of her for the day."  
  
Karen smiled at him. "Well, aren't we just the Good Samaritan." He smiled at Karen and looked down at Sarah, Karen caught this look and belatedly realised she ought to ask Sarah's opinion. "Is that alright with you, Sarah?"  
  
"Yes, that would be nice."  
  
Karen laughed. "It just goes to show you how many ways there are to make friends."  
  
Sarah cringed, wishing that her stepmother would go off to work like she so obviously wanted.  
  
Jareth looked up. "By the way, the surname is obvious. A labyrinth is a giant maze, and my middle name means knight or guardian."  
  
Karen nodded and ran off. A short while later they heard the car pull out of the drive. Sarah let out a sigh of relief and Jareth looked down at her and smiled gently. Sarah caught his eye. "You're so different from the last time we met." He looked down at the floor. "And you still didn't answer my question from earlier, why did you save me?"  
  
Jareth appeared to find the floor very interesting. Sarah smiled at him for some reason she couldn't fathom and spoke.  
  
"Jareth, what is so interesting about my floor?"  
  
Jareth coughed and looked up at her: there was once again a trace of colour in his cheeks. "Nothing, it's just been a long time since we last saw each other. Have you been well?"  
  
"Oh I'm fine . . ." The sentence trailed off and she burst out with, "WHAT'S HAPPENED TO YOU?!"  
  
Jareth looked out of the window, he smiled a little and then whispered to himself, "You."  
  
Sarah got a little annoyed at this point. "Excuse me, what was that?"  
  
"Was there anything you needed, anything to do, anything to eat, something to drink, a pill for your head, a story or some music?" he said offhandedly.  
  
"Jareth, you're avoiding the subject," she accused him.  
  
His eyes fell on her and he put his head to one side with his eyebrows raised. "Yes, you have a problem with that?"  
  
Sarah sighed in aggravation, obviously some things about Jareth hadn't changed, he was still going to be difficult. "Jareth, you should know by now that I'm not going to give up, so just answer my two questions and I won't ask you any more today, I promise - except can I see you again some time?"  
  
He looked at her, mild surprise in his face, and a light Sarah never knew he could possess shining in his eyes. "Of course you can see me again, just call out my name and I will come to you."  
  
"Ok, so tell me the answer to the other two questions and I'll ask nothing else."  
  
"Are you sure about that?" he asked, eyebrows raised quizzically.  
  
As she looked at him, Sarah realised no one had mentioned the strange clothes that Jareth wore or his hair but knowing Jareth he was using magic to make sure nobody noticed.  
  
Sarah thought long and hard about her answer to this question, because she had memories of Jareth and another time she had answered this question too quickly, it had caused a lot of trouble. "When am I ever unsure?"  
  
He smiled at her, his eyes gleaming with laughter. "Never. Alright, you win."  
  
Sarah was surprised that he had given in so easily. If she had known what his answers to her questions were going to be then she wouldn't have thought this was giving in at all, far from it.  
  
"The reason I saved you is because I didn't want the one person who had beaten my Labyrinth to die in such a dishonourable way, though there are those who would have said you deserved it for not looking where you were going."  
  
Sarah snorted but at the same time saw his point. A question surfaced in her mind: just how long had he been watching her anyway? She suddenly hated the fact she had said yes to 'Are you sure?'  
  
Jareth caught her attention by saying, "And the reason I've changed so much is that I have found myself enlightened by someone and their dreams."  
  
Now she really hated the fact she had promised to ask no more questions, whoever this person was she was jealous of them, and Sarah couldn't place why.  
  
Jareth smiled at her softly, Sarah was again taken back, different, he was so different. "Now what do you want to do? You have me all to yourself until your parents get back at three and its only ten a.m. now."  
  
Sarah found herself smiling at the prospect of having Jareth all to herself for that long.  
  
"So, I'm allowed to have music or a story?" she repeated, tapping a finger against her lip.  
  
He nodded. "It's your choice."  
  
"Sure? You're not going to subtly hint which you'd prefer, or try and steer me towards one?"  
  
Jareth merely smiled at her. Sarah guessed that meant a 'no', but you could never be sure with Jareth - even this new 'improved' version. She thought for a while, wondering which was more harmless. A song could be hypnotic . . but a story surely couldn't do any harm. No harm ever came of listening to a story, right? (Anybody watch 'The Mummy'? 'No harm ever came from reading a book' - you haven't read any books lately, have you, Evelyn?)  
  
"I think I'll have a story," she said finally, settling back against her pillows.  
  
Jareth rubbed his hands. "And which story would my lady like?"  
  
She gave him a weird look. "Any one you happen to know that I might not have heard."  
  
"I have many from the Labyrinth: would you like to hear of Sir Didimus and the Goblin Raiders?"  
  
Sarah's eyes went wide. "What happened?"  
  
"Oh he's still alive, don't worry. I wouldn't let them kill your friend. I didn't exactly have to do anything anyway: he had them cowering for some reason."  
  
Sarah smirked, but wouldn't explain why. "I'd prefer something . . a little more relaxing."  
  
Jareth pondered. "Relaxing? What would you call relaxing?"  
  
"Romance: good beats evil, hero gets girl - or heroine gets boy. Happily ever after ending."  
  
Jareth sat there for a moment in silence. He only knew one story that she would classify as romantic. The trouble was, it was about him, and if she found this out.  
  
"Well? I know we're talking about you, but you must know *something* romantic."  
  
"One story."  
  
"Well, that's more than I'd expected."  
  
"I don't know if you'll like it."  
  
"How about we let me decide that? You tell it, and I'll decide."  
  
"How democratic," Jareth murmured sarcastically.  
  
"This is my world, so we're playing by my rules," she said triumphantly. "And you can't argue with an invalid!"  
  
He laughed. "Remind me never to do a good deed again."  
  
Sarah folded her arms and tried to look hurt. "Are you implying that I wasn't worth it?"  
  
"No."  
  
She was surprised, not just by the short answer, but by the sincerity in his voice. He watched her over the chair, satisfied at her shock. Sarah recognised the look and shook herself.  
  
"So, tell me. Tell me the story."  
  
Jareth shifted and took a deep breath. "Far away, *beyond* the Labyrinth . . ."  
  
Sarah listened spellbound as a story unfolded of a powerful king, both cruel and kind, never knowing love therefore never able to give it. He did not consider this as a drawback, until one day when an old family servant told him the terrible truth: if he had not found someone to love him truly, whom he could also love, then he would slowly wither away and die in the full bloom of youth, like a flower on the stem . . .  
  
"And he still to this day has not found someone who will return his love, and the time of his death draws near."  
  
He finished and was silent. Sarah couldn't speak. That wasn't romance, that wasn't even relaxing. That was terrible, tragic. When she looked at Jareth's face, she got a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach. She was afraid to analyse this feeling and find out what it meant. She was suddenly grateful that she'd agreed not to ask any questions. The answers would probably have been too much for her to handle.  
  
The clock struck three. The sunlight had turned lazy and golden. They both jumped at the sound of the chimes. A car pulled up in the drive. Jareth stretched, stood up, and stretched again.  
  
"I must be going."  
  
"Wait-!" But what could she say?  
  
"Sarah?" He was standing there, one eyebrow raised. She searched his face desperately, but there was no trace of any age or pain on it. Only his eyes showed emotion, a hint of sorrow buried deep within the darkness.  
  
"I know I promised no more questions, and you don't have to answer this one, but - was that story about you?"  
  
He looked at her, and smiled a little, sadly. "Yes," he said softly. "It is."  
  
Sarah gasped, wanting to say something, but her father's voice called up the stairs, "Sarah! Honey, are you awake?"  
  
She glanced at the door, and when she looked back he was gone. 


	2. Part two

Part two.  
  
A week later, on Saturday, she was alone in the house, for the first time in ages. Her father and Karen were having 'quiet time' as Karen called it, a whole weekend to themselves at some snazzy city hotel. Toby had been left with Karen's parents. She had wondered if Sarah shouldn't stay with them as well, but her parents had convinced her that, at over the age of sixteen, Sarah was more than old enough to live on her own over a weekend. Sarah was grateful to the people, although she'd never met them. Quite apart from the issue of independence, it meant she could finally see Jareth again, something that she really wanted to do, there was so much she wanted to ask him. She was sitting in the kitchen before the remains of a sandwich, contemplating her next move, when she heard a noise in her bedroom.  
  
When Sarah went to investigate, the noise turned out to be Hoggle, who had managed to end up in her wardrobe. When she opened the doors, he fell out tangled up in scarves and T-shirts. After being untangled, he sat on Sarah's bed, looking very melancholy.  
  
"What's wrong, Hoggle?"  
  
"Take a guess," he answered gloomily, playing with the plastic bracelet she had given him, never a good sign.  
  
She sat down beside him, looking at her hands. "Jareth's sick."  
  
Hoggle shook his head. "Worse."  
  
"Worse?!"  
  
"He's . . ."  
  
Sarah paled, it could only be one thing. She swallowed hard and whispered, "Dying?"  
  
Hoggle nodded sadly, and sniffed. "Just when he'd gotten so good as well - what are you doing?"  
  
Sarah was stuffing clothing into a bag. She was feeling cold and hot at the same time. When Hoggle had nodded, something in her head had clicked into place, a wall in her mind had vanished. Jareth's story had suddenly become as clear as day: Jareth was in love, and not with just any one he loved her, that's why he had told her the tail. Jareth was dying, that fact made Sarah feel sick, in her panic she forgot what Jareth had said, just thinking that she had to save him some how. But how?  
  
"Is there any cure?" she asked, now on underwear, before suddenly remembering that somebody had to truly love the king to stop the curse.  
  
Hoggle was staring at her. "Why are you . . so upset?" he asked tentatively. There was a look in Sarah's over bright eyes that scared him, it was something Hoggle had never seen there before.  
  
Sarah stopped what she was doing, she dropped onto the bed and burst out crying.  
  
"Somebody who really loves him, and he loves back, heaven knows who that is, has to tell him they love him, and they have to *really* mean it." Hoggle touched her arm gently. "Don't cry. He'll be alright. He's always survived somehow."  
  
Sarah wiped her eyes, she rose from where she lay and with her shoulders set and a determined look on her face, zipped up the bag.  
  
She stopped moving around the room, picking up various bits, like a brush, when Hoggle said offhandedly, "Though he has made the strange request to be moved into the ballroom. We had to put his bed in there and everything. It's strange: ever since that happened, I swear I've heard music in there at night, but when I go in, it's all dark and quiet, and he's asleep, dead to the world -" He winced. "Sorry." Then he stopped, wondering why he was apologising. "Why do you care anyway?!"  
  
Sarah looked at him, tears began to silently run down her cheeks. Her face said everything, she loved him, heaven only knew how but she loved Jareth. Hoggle opened his mouth and closed it again. "Oh," he finally said softly. "We'd better go, then. Do you want to leave a note for your parents?"  
  
"What's the point, I'm not coming back," Sarah said bitterly. She still didn't feel part of her father's new family and hated being treated like Cinderella by Karen, Jareth was the only one to have ever really cared about, her, what she wanted, what her dreams were and Sarah would be damned if she was going to lose him now. Yes, he had made mistakes, but so had she: neither of them was perfect. They would work out there differences some how, despite their stubbornness.  
  
Hoggle did a double take. "You're - you're not?"  
  
Sarah grabbed the book of the Labyrinth off her shelf, three other old favourites, and a picture of her mother from her mirror; after doing this, she placed them in a shoulder bag. "No, I'm not coming back. He needs far more than they ever will, and everything I want is in the Underground."  
  
Hoggle grabbed her arm. "Sarah! Are you crazy? We're talking about moving in with the man you hate - at least that's what he thinks! We're talking about leaving everything you know behind, wishing yourself away so that you won't ever be able to come back. You'll never see any of this again."  
  
"And you think that makes me sad?"  
  
"Doesn't it?" Demanded her friend.  
  
Sarah paused. "I'll leave something for Toby when he's older. And no, it doesn't make me sad to leave this behind for my dreams."  
  
She scribbled a letter down. "Will you make sure that he finds this when he's ready?" she asked Hoggle, holding it out.  
  
He took it, concentrated, and it vanished. "It'll turn up just when he needs it," he replied, smiling.  
  
"How can I get to him?"  
  
"Wish?"  
  
"Oh, right." She wiped more tears away, sniffed and then settled herself. "I wish . . I wish . . I wish the Goblin King would come and take *me* away . . right now."  
  
They both disappeared from the room, in a cloud of swirling glittering silver dust. 


	3. Part three

Part three.  
  
Jareth's bedroom was very crowded, but somehow Sarah and Hoggle managed to find a space to land in. Hoggle barged rudely through the crowd, yelling, "Make way, make way, Lady of the Labyrinth coming through!"  
  
Sarah caught his shoulder. "What did you call me?"  
  
"It's your title. You completed his Labyrinth, so he gave you a title. You're in the history books, you know."  
  
Sarah was silent. She couldn't believe that she had a title. Sarah Williams, Lady of the Labyrinth. It had certainly worked: a path had cleared for them, leading up to the bed. She walked through without difficulty. Goblins were hurriedly leaving the room.  
  
"They were told to get out of your way if you ever came back," Hoggle explained.  
  
"By who?!"  
  
"Take a guess."  
  
"Jareth?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Then who?" Sarah asked mildly confused.  
  
"Didimus of course. He has Jareth's authority on such matters."  
  
"Jareth's authority . . . ?" Sarah asked her eyes wide.  
  
"Well, who d'you think knighted him? He might not have been the most likeable guy, but he was a proper king, and knew who he could trust."  
  
"Wait a minute, that means Sir Didimus was meant to stop me getting over the bridge." Sarah was startled at the revelation.  
  
"Yes, but he didn't, because Sir Didimus, unlike Jareth, knew a winner when he saw one."  
  
"I'm flattered that you think so highly of me, Sir Hoggle," piped a voice from the other side of Jareth's bed, as a russet furry face appeared.  
  
"Didimus!" For a moment Sarah felt better. The vulpine knight's courage and optimism were infectious.  
  
"I knew thee would come," he said softly, bowing over one arm.  
  
"How bad is it, Sir Didimus?" Sarah asked, in a hushed voice, concern in her eyes.  
  
"Bad, my lady. Very bad. He has but a few minutes left."  
  
"Minutes?!!" She ran forward, but stopped, hand over mouth at the terrible sight.  
  
Jareth's flesh was so pale, he seemed almost made of bone. The skin was stretched tightly over his face, his hands were skeletal. His hair had grown down his waist, but it was thin and like straw, straggling over the covers. She only knew he was breathing because of the terrible rasping sound in his chest, and the oxygen wheezed in and out of his body.  
  
Sarah gently seated herself on the edge of the bed so as not to disturb Jareth too much, and very gently took a hand. It was so thin, she almost started crying again.  
  
"Jareth, it's me, it's Sarah," she said gently. "I wished myself here. Forever. For you. I chose to come here just for you. I love you. I really really really love you. Truly. I want to stay here, with you, forever. Don't leave me."  
  
The breathing stopped.  
  
"Trust me, Jareth!" Sarah cried desperately.  
  
There was a pause, the longest pause of Sarah's life, as she waited for a reaction, any reaction. Sarah took his head, and put in her lap, then lowered her head to his, so he could feel her warm breath on his face. "Please, please come back to me," she whispered. "It's me, I swear it's me. Come on, you idiot!"  
  
A slow breath was sucked in, and rattled out again, slowly, then faster and faster, until the rattle was gone. He almost seemed to gain weight out of the air. The hair didn't shorten, but it brightened, growing thicker and softer. She touched it gently with a smile. "Beautiful hair," she whispered.  
  
"Thank-you."  
  
The whisper startled Sarah so much that she jumped a little. A throaty chuckle followed. "I'm glad to see I still have that effect."  
  
"Oh you-!" She picked him up and hugged him, very tightly.  
  
His eyes opened in astonishment. "Sarah . . . ?" he whispered. "Why . . are you hugging me . . so hard?"  
  
"You were about to die!" she sobbed.  
  
"What do you mean 'about to'? I did, but something - or should I say some*one* brought me back," he answered, looking deep into her eyes. "Now how about I take you home?"  
  
He clicked his fingers, but nothing happened. Sir Didimus and Hoggle crept out of the room to spread the wonderful news. Jareth looked puzzled. "I must still be weak," he whispered, apologetic.  
  
Sarah laughed. "No, you silly fairy, I wished myself here. Permanently."  
  
He gaped at her. "What . . . ?"  
  
"You needed me, and I . . well, I realised I needed you. Even more, than I thought it was possible for me to need some one. So much more."  
  
A smile hovered at the corner of his lips. "Sarah . . ."  
  
"Yes?" she asked, hoping for some kind of similar feeling.  
  
"Don't call me a fairy: there are no wings hiding in my back."  
  
She blushed at the fact she thought that Jareth would admit to anything and for confusing what he was. "Sorry."  
  
"And you're very kind to tell me such things, but you didn't have to make all that up."  
  
Sarah stared at him, slowly getting redder and redder. Jareth realised that he'd just made a huge mistake. He could only hope that his status as an invalid would save him from being actually hit.  
  
"WOULD YOU BE ALIVE RIGHT NOW IF I WAS MAKING THOSE THINGS UP?! I DON'T THINK SO! HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME OF LYING WHEN I WAS BARING MY HEART TO YOU!!!"  
  
Sarah pushed him off her lap, leapt up and ran from the room. Unfortunately, Jareth's head was extremely sensitive, and he groaned loudly as it hit the bed. Sarah froze in the corridor, as goblins ran past her. She turned and followed them, to find the Goblin King pale as a sheet and groaning. The goblins kept asking what was wrong, which was irritating as Jareth couldn't answer them. Their squealing chattering voices only made his headache worse. Sarah could already feel a pounding in her temples.  
  
"Enough!" she yelled. "Out, out, out!"  
  
"She sound like King," said one of the goblins.  
  
"Move!" Sarah screamed, and they did, very quickly.  
  
Jareth managed a ghost of a smile. "Very well done, you don't often get a compliment like that out of them."  
  
"That's a compliment?" she retorted, coming towards the bed.  
  
"They're comparing you to me, it's a compliment. In their standards at any rate."  
  
She sat down on the bed, and helped him back onto the pillows. "I'm sorry," she sighed. "I should have known better than to treat you like that."  
  
"I shouldn't have accused you of lying," he answered. "You've always been brutally honest."  
  
"If you're not careful, I'll go away again." She tried to sound threatening but it was only a halfhearted attempt.  
  
"As long as you don't hurt me, you can go where you like. But I'd prefer you to stay."  
  
She hesitated. "You mean that?"  
  
"Of course I do. But we should still try and find a way for you to get home. You have family. It's not right for you to abandon them."  
  
Sarah folded her arms and prepared for a siege. "I am not going! I refuse to go back there! I wished myself here, and by the rules of this land, that means I have to stay unless someone comes for me, and nobody is going to do that because they don't even know where I've gone, so there! I will chain myself to this bed if I have to . . .!"  
  
Jareth's eyes darkened, as certain thoughts entered his mind, and then he shook his head to banish them.  
  
"Sarah . . ." But he was cut off.  
  
"I wished for the Goblin King to come and take me away." Sarah stated.  
  
"But I didn't come for you, so technically you can go back." He said trying to sound reasonable.  
  
"And when I'm back, I'll just wish myself here again! What will it take to make you realise I don't want to go back, I'm staying here, and I am doing this of my own free volition!!!"  
  
"And what would you face in order to prove this?"  
  
"Name it and I'll face it," she answered, lifting her chin, then added for good measure, "I'll even take a bath in the Bog of Eternal Stench if you insist."  
  
The eyebrows shot up. "You really are serious."  
  
"Well, duh."  
  
"Excuse me if I looked shocked. I didn't think anyone could want to stay here that much." Even his voice was full of surprise.  
  
"I don't want to exactly stay here - this is the ballroom after all. Which reminds me, why the hell are you in here in the first place?"  
  
Jareth blushed only a little, but the red was startling in his pale face. Sarah glanced around, and recognised the room. "The dream . . the crystal," she said slowly.  
  
Jareth's eyes widened. "Yes . . what about it?" he said very cautiously.  
  
"This is the same ballroom!"  
  
"Yes . . . ? So?" He said trying to sound offhanded about it.  
  
"Why would you want to die in here?"  
  
Jareth hated the fact that Sarah could be so inquisitive sometimes but he answered her any way. "Because the happiest moments of my life were spent here, and I don't care if it sounds clichéd, it's true!"  
  
Sarah looked at him questioningly "Wait a minute, what are you talking about? The crystal ball was just a dream."  
  
"For you maybe, but for me it was real. And I fell in love with someone at that ball, the only lady who did not wear a mask."  
  
Sarah stared at him in silence for a few moments, not wanting to answer him. A knock on the door saved her.  
  
"My lady, my king? How dost thou?" He peeked around the door.  
  
Both Sarah and Jareth smiled at Sir Didimus.  
  
"I would like to be moved back up to my bedroom now, as I'm sure that my recovery will not take long."  
  
Sarah swore silently, that man was quick to weasel his way out of a situation. 


	4. Part four

Part four.  
  
Jareth managed to avoid answering her questions for about three days. But the third night, he could resist it no longer, though he knew it was like a siren calling him to his doom. He crept down to the ballroom, wearing his dark blue dress jacket and white suit, the suit that Sarah had 'dreamed' in the crystal. He walked into the ballroom and recreated the 'dream'. People watched him from every corner. Everyone wore masks except him. Having no partner, he simply sat and watched the ball. There was one person he couldn't recreate, and he had no intention of trying, at least not while she was in the castle.  
  
Sarah was asleep in her bed, until the strains of a familiar song woke her up. Her wide eyes narrowed. "Jareth . . ." she muttered, getting up and pulling on a dressing gown.  
  
As she drew near the ballroom, she recognised words: 'I'll paint you moments of gold, and spin you Valentine evenings; though we're strangers to love, we're choosing the path between the stars, I'll live my love between the stars.'  
  
At first the scene was exactly identical to that of her dream, until she realised there were three differences: one, Jareth wasn't dancing, and she couldn't see him anywhere in the crowd; there was no clock on the wall; and she wasn't there. She felt even more out place than she had last time: in flannel pyjamas with a teddy bear pattern and a light blue dressing gown.  
  
Jareth stood up. Sarah ducked behind a plant. He clapped his hands and the people disappeared. The room decorations stayed the same; and so did his clothes. Sarah realised with an inward pang that they were real. She hadn't dreamt him looking like this. She hadn't dreamt the romance of the setting. She began to rise to confront the King, when she realised that if she did so, he would never do this again and she wanted him too, she wanted to dance in his arms and feel loved by Jareth. She needed to come back properly dressed - properly armed.  
  
The next night, Sarah wore her beautiful cream gown, with silver leaves in her hair. She waited in a dark room near the ballroom for him to arrive, having given the goblins on guard a whole barrel of mead. They had long since disappeared. Sure enough, at five to midnight, Jareth floated down the corridor, in the same clothes and opened the doors. Light flooded onto him, along with the noise of people laughing, talking, and lilting music. He stepped inside. Sarah hurried after him and managed to get inside the room just before the doors closed. He was already lost in the crowd, so she stood at the side, waiting to catch a glimpse of him.  
  
After ten minutes, a particular couple moved, and she saw him, sitting in a corner on a beautiful white couch, watching the dancing with brooding eyes. He was separate from the others, obviously not one of them. Quietly, carefully, Sarah made her way around the room to where Jareth sat, always hiding when his gaze turned in her direction. When she finally reached him, she folded her arms, waiting for a reaction.  
  
He looked up, and frowned. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I could ask you the same thing."  
  
"It's my castle. I can do what I like." He said aggressively.  
  
"You can't seriously like watching these people dance and flirt and mindlessly chatter every single night."  
  
"And why not?"  
  
Sarah was silent. Because it was so pointless? She had no idea about what he liked and disliked.  
  
"Why do you like it?" she asked, switching her line of attack.  
  
"Because it reminds me."  
  
"Of what?"  
  
"The one time I truly enjoyed myself at a dance. I enjoy dancing, but it's hard for me to find a partner that can increase my enjoyment." His eyes met hers. "You were a wonderful dancing partner."  
  
Sarah found herself blushing and looking away.  
  
"Is there something you wanted? Perhaps the music is too loud?" He said gently.  
  
"Oh no! No, I . . I wanted to dance."  
  
"I'm afraid I don't dance anymore." He spoke so quietly, Sarah's heart almost broke on the spot.  
  
"But I'm your guest, you have to dance with me."  
  
Jareth smiled at her slightly and then said gently and a little wistfully. "Ah yes, for tomorrow I will take you home."  
  
Sarah slapped him. "You are not taking me home! How many times do we have to have this argument?!"  
  
Jareth touched his cheek. "Why do you hit me if you want to stay here? All we ever do is fight, I would think you'd prefer living with your parents."  
  
"We only fight because you won't accept the fact I want to stay with you. Hitting you seems to be the only way that we can communicate." She looked as if she was in despair. Then suddenly she moved forward, tipped his head up and kissed him. She was not expecting his hands to come around her waist, nor a response from his lips.  
  
After some breathless moments, they parted. Sarah buried her face in his chest, Jareth having stood up during the kiss, and he laid his cheek on her hair. A hand landed softly on the back of her head. "Sarah," he whispered. "You love me."  
  
"Of course I do, you idiot!" she choked.  
  
"Care to dance?" He questioned gently.  
  
She looked up, her eyes suddenly shining through the tears. "Yes," she said simply. He walked her out into the middle of the dance floor, and they waltzed.  
  
After the dance, Sarah's eyelids were drooping. Jareth looked down at her and said softly, "Tired?"  
  
She nodded silently. He clapped his hands, and everything disappeared. Then he scooped her up into his arms, ignoring her sleepy protests and transported them both to his room.  
  
"If you do not wish to go home, I will not send you. For you wished yourself away, therefore you must stay. And I'll love you, even if the world falls down.  
  
"You have my heart, Jareth, therefore you have all the power over me you need."  
  
He smiled. "If you're going to stay then, and if you love me, I suppose . . ."  
  
She looked up. "You suppose?"  
  
"I'd better make you my Queen." He kissed her.  
  
She opened her eyes afterwards. "Yes, definitely."  
  
They snuggled down in the bed, Jareth behind Sarah an arm round her waist, Sarah with a happy smile on her face holding the hand that was on her stomach tightly and soon they fell asleep together.  
  
The End 


End file.
